


Zim, Dib, and the Giant Terrible Whatsit

by Sketchris



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Dib is a Junior in highschool, Fluff, Humorous, Hurt and comfort, I mean eventually, Just wingin it we'll see how it goes, M/M, More tags as chapters update, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Teamwork, The world is in danger, ZADF, ZaDr, Zim and dib! Working together! TO SAVE THE EARTH!, adventure story, and then figuring out what to do, first draft, other stuff maybe, zim and dib friendship - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-21
Updated: 2017-03-16
Packaged: 2018-09-01 09:44:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8619550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sketchris/pseuds/Sketchris
Summary: Just then, the ceiling collapsed over the receptionist, the fiery light of the sun filling the room. On top of the rubble was a familiar purple ship, and from it emerged a miserable-looking little green humanoid holding a flowery parasol over his head.“Get in,” Zim ordered sternly.--note: previously titled "Doom Space"





	1. It's an Uncommonly Hot Day

One more. Just one more question and he would be finished for the night. Through the obstructive blinds, he could see the night slowly ending with the first trickle of light filling the endless musky sky. _One more question._

It already took Dib several hours to complete the teetering towers of homework for all of his classes (mostly extra work from Mrs. Bitters as punishment for ‘the distracting largeness of his head’). On top of Contemporary World Not-History, Super Calculus, Second Biology, and Language Arts, his father had assigned him extra piles of mega-equations in which Dib had find viable solutions to current world problems. Today’s question had something to do with the war between Russia and New Russia, where Dib had to come up with a viable solution for ending the war, but using only live tuna, all of the world’s available mariachi bands, and a hoard of ultra-bees (last time he solved an equation like this, he did so within the span of four hours; a world record. He later received a $300 scholarship and a letter of recommendation in his resume for his astounding achievement). It was tough being the future of Membrane Industries. 

Now, almost 14 hours and ten Energy Poop Beverages later, a single, glaring question remained. He thought to himself why it was that he didn’t just complete it, just like all the others. Was it the cramping in his hands? No, he had continued despite the obvious developing carpal tunnel earned several school subjects ago. The difficulty of the question? No, he had the answer in his head; a simple number ready to be transposed onto the paper. Despite the sheer amount of will he directed towards his hand, it just wouldn’t write the answer. His grip tightened. His hand started shaking. The pencil broke in two, leaving a splinter in his thumb. He took this as an excuse to take a break. 

He instinctively walked towards the bathroom, where he proceeded to wash up. Man, was his hair was greasy. He blinked. He hadn’t done that in a while. Layers of lost sleep gathered under his eyes in the form of swollen shadows. Sweat gathered at his back and armpits. He decided now was as good of a time as any to shower and get ready for the day. The pending homework question would sit there, not doing anything, until he could attend to it later. He could finish it right before class. It wouldn’t be hard. He thought this as he looked up towards the rising steam from the shower, letting time slip through his fingers. 

A knock rang from the door. Dib silently prayed to himself that it wasn’t his sister demanding full use of the bathroom as he shouted an answer.  
“Who is it?”

“Hello, son! Just commending you on another productive day in the many wonders of REAL science! I trust you finished all of your assignments?”

“Yeah,” Dib lied. It didn’t make much of a difference. He might as well be done. 

“And the solution for the war between Russia and New Russia?”

“It’s deposited into the mailing slot of your office door, like you asked.”

“Ohoho! I am always interested in the unique solutions my genius son has to offer in the field of SCIENCE.”

"Thanks, Dad, that means—”

“Also I have come to inform you that your bus arrives in exactly three minutes and 22 seconds—20...19...18...—”

“Okay, okay, alright, I won’t miss it,” Dib promised.

Dib missed it. It was lucky at least that even through middle school and high school, his school location was still the same building, the same class, same designated seating, the same teacher (Mrs. Bitters, whose appearance had not changed), in the same location— just a few blocks from his house. It was _not_ lucky that today was a particularly sweltering day. It’s not as though Dib hadn’t suffered worse weather before— most summers reached higher temperatures all the time. Summer seemed to have started rather early this year, as it was only the first week of March and they had already reached the average summer high. He gazed towards (but not directly at) the scorching sun briefly before moving forward, his backpack weighing him down by several tons. 

Arriving just seconds before the bell rang, he sat in the same seat he had sat in since he first started school. His fellow juniors were already seated. Dib quietly identified the students he had begrudgingly spent his entire educational experience with; Chunk, Keef, Oldkid, Jessica, Poonchy, Mary, Melvin, Zita, Pigboy, Brian— his eyes lingered on the dusty desk just a couple seats over. 

Zim had been absent for quite a while. About six years, 5 months, and 21 days to be exact. Dib hated himself for knowing this.

Dib nearly forgot to complete the last question of his assignment. He still had the answer lingering in his head as he pulled up the paper. The answer was “yes,” of course. “Yes, aliens are government lies.” Y-E-S, he wrote on the paper, just before Bitters asked that everyone turn in their assignments. Everyone gathered their completed papers on their desk, where they (along with a couple Delishus Weenies from some kid’s lunch bag) were sucked up by a large machine that rose from Mrs. Bitters’ desk. Every once in awhile, the machine would stop on a single answer and print out a small piece of paper. Mrs. Bitters would read the slip, and announce the name of the kid who wrote it, followed by a short monologue about why their answer was stupid. 

“ZITA. The question was: ‘what is the capital of France, and you answered ‘Paris,’ which would be right a couple days ago, but the capital now is _'a poil,'_ but the word _'naked'_ would have also sufficed if your measly little muscle of a brain could even comprehend such a simple answer. Your blatant ignorance is unacceptable. You will spend today’s lunch in the underground pits.” With that, a trap door opened under Zita’s desk and she descended into the barely visible flames below. _But isn’t lunch in like four hours?_ Dib thought to himself but said nothing.

Mrs. Bitters’ assignments correction continued much like this, each with odd and inconsistent punishments for each student.

“Alex, you answered ‘runningoutofmaterialtoreadaphobia’ for the question ‘what is the word for the fear of running out of material to read.’ You will be covering _all_ of the school janitors’ shifts for the rest of the week.”

“And Brian; you get an F for having a ‘distractingly bad hair day.’”

After reading a few more of these slips with exceptional indifference, she raised a single eyebrow at the next paper that came out. 

“...Dib. In this simple ‘yes or no’ question, which I won’t even bother repeating, you answered neither ‘yes’ or ‘no,’ but instead wrote… ‘Zim.’ For this nonsense, I have no choice but to send you to the office. The principal will have to evaluate your incompetence there.”

 

It was said that Zim had been transferred over to a school in Old Switzerland, but Dib never once believed it to be true. He spent months on end on the edge of his seat, waiting for whatever unspeakable doom Zim had in store for his planet. Looking for Zim. Looking for clues for Zim. Waiting. Losing the opportunity to skip a grade as his attendance fell short of expectation. Waiting in his room. Looking at the camera feed from where Zim’s house used to be. Waiting in his room. Not leaving his room. Rotting in his room. Wondering if Zim even existed or if he was simply the result of an exceptionally vivid fever-dream, but he couldn’t believe it. He wondered if it would have been easier to believe it. Losing his future. Losing his mind. Losing himself. 

Eventually, he had felt himself falling into a pit of purposelessness. He stopped watching Mysterious Mysteries. He stopped doing most things he loved, though he didn’t really know why. He finally caved into his father’s dream for him, as Dib came to realize that he no longer had one for himself. The work was relentless and boring, but it secured him a future that guaranteed itself to be better than a future on the streets, and that was enough. He didn’t sleep a lot. He didn’t eat a lot. He worked more often than anything else. He still had his paranormal gear, unused since freshman year. He couldn’t bring himself to throw it all away. He instead hid it in storage for fear of letting his father down. 

Since his breakdown subsided, the bullying significantly decreased. Since he “got over” paranormal studies, people hated him less. Perhaps they just hated him quieter. He still didn’t have friends. This was okay. He hated school. This was okay. He hated the plan his father had for him. He hated working so much. He hated feeling hungry and tired. He hated lacking energy. He hated how he felt like a machine whose sole job was to fill out papers. He hated how trapped he felt in a future that wasn’t his own. All of this was, also, okay. 

Still, part of him hated Zim, whether he actually existed or not (he did, and he knew this all too well). His disappearance was at the center of this downward spiral. He never spoke of him outside of thought. Sometimes his thoughts were Zim, taking the form of his taunting voice, his stupid logic, his ignorant pride and obsession with chaos and destruction. Dib always told those thoughts to shut up. He hated how much control the green kid had, even after being gone for six years.  
Even now, as Dib trudged to the principal’s office in the sweltering heat of the hallways (like a gym sock-smelly desert with no sand or air conditioning), he imagined how Zim would react to him being sent to the principal’s office, over writing his name in place of a “yes or no” answer no less. Man, was that stupid. Zim would probably say so as well. _Foooolish Diiiib!_ He could almost hear him say. He’d probably have some sort of evil surprise waiting for him at the office, as though it was his idea for Dib to get the answer so horrendously wrong. Dib found himself almost missing the unpredictability of his life in the past.

“Welcome to the principal’s office, do you have an appointment?” the bubbly robotic school receptionist inquired, sparks springing from her neck.

“I---what? No, I just got sent to the office because---for something stupid, I guess.”

“Hmmmmmmm, no appointment then?”

“I---that’s dumb, why do I need to make an appointment to get sent to the principal’s office?”

“Hmmmmm okay okay just sit over there and we’ll see what we c-c-caaan doooo-o-o-o-o---”

The receptionbot’s voice trailed off on the last word as she comically froze in place, shaking with more sparks flying from her joints. The word _ERROR_ blinked on her chest in bright red, followed by smaller words below, _system interference._ Electric charge shuddered through the receptionbot’s metallic body, making the lights flicker. A dull distant rumble began shaking the room more intensely with each passing second. Dib backed away with his eyes locked on the malfunctioning office employee, fumbling with one hand for the doorknob. The sole lightbulb hanging from the ceiling shattered on the floor and left Dib in near total darkness.

Just then, the ceiling collapsed over the receptionist, the fiery light of the sun filling the room. On top of the rubble was a familiar purple ship, and from it emerged a miserable-looking little green humanoid holding a flowery parasol over his head.

“Get in,” Zim ordered sternly.


	2. So what's the plan?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So there's this giant rock over there, right? well it _shouldn't_ be over there. We gotta do something about it.

“You!” Dib accused.

“ME!” Zim confirmed proudly, flowery parasol held high.

”Zim!” Dib glared.

“Dib!” Zim asserted.

“Me? _YOU!_ ” Dib pointed.

“ZIIIIIIM!” Zim announced.

“You ruined my life!” Dib lashed.

“Eh,” Zim shrugged. “Don’t blame me for your life’s shortcomings, pitiful DIIIIBB” 

“You’re the one who just—”

“ENOUGH! Zim has had enough of your frivolous nonsense. Get in the voot cruiser.”

“After six years of vanishing off the face of the earth—”

“Now’s not the time to—”

“And now my dad expects me! _ME!_ To solve all of the world’s—”

“Dib.”

“Also I haven’t had a good night of sleep in months and I might actually be going—”

“Just _GET IN THE SHIP_ ” Zim demanded.

“And why should I?” Dib crossed his arms.

“Have you seen the sky?” Zim 

“I’ve heard that one before. I’m not falling for your tricks anymore. Don’t think just because you’ve been gone for several years that I’ve let my guard down.”

“Look at the 'sun,'” Zim pointed to something that was where the sun was supposed to be. It was fiery and bright like the sun, but it wasn't the right shade or shape.

“What? No way! That’s your dumbest plan yet!” 

“Does it look, say, _bigger_ to you?”

“I—” Dib gazed towards (but not directly at) the sun. In the corner of his eye, he could see the terrible light had grown stronger and in fact, bigger. 

“We don’t have much time,” Zim stated, twirling his parasol over his shoulder. Dib could see the sweat forming on his green skin. 

“That’s— that’s not the sun, is it?” 

“We have twelve hours until impact.”

“What does—”

“And 3 hours until the most CATASTROPHIC OF DESTRUCTION.”

“What do you—”

“And about 2 and a half hours until there’s an unproportionate amount of fire right where you're standing.”

Dib’s mouth hung open as his wild sleep-deprived eyes darted around the now fire-less room. He stood, unmoving, for a few seconds.

“Get in the voot cruiser,” Zim asked once more as he did so himself, folding up his parasol while no longer in direct light of the _Giant Terrible Whatsit_ hurling towards Earth. 

“...Okay.” Dib climbed in behind Zim’s pilot seat and sat in fetal position as they took flight to the void beyond the sky.

♠♠♠♠♥♠♠♠♠

Dib pressed his face against whatever material made up Zim’s windshield.

“An asteroid?”

“Not just an asteroid. Planet debris from galactic North.”

“That’s part of a _planet?_ ”

“It’s what _USED_ to be a planet thousands, if not millions of years ago. Shattered in the Space War. OF SPACE,” Zim stood up to shake his fist at nothing in particular for that last phrase. "You're just lucky it's not one of the _bigger_ pieces.

“Uh huh…” Dib furrowed his brow. “How did you even find me anyway? There’s no way that you lured me to the principal’s office just so you could—”

“Yes, YES, it was all part of my BRILLIANT PLAN. I simply—” Zim cut himself off when he saw Dib looking at him seriously. “...I’ve been putting location-tracking microbots in your shampoo for the past three months,” Zim admitted.

“You _what?_ ” Dib grabbed his head and frantically searched with his hands.

“They also prevent and eliminate dandruff.”

“Oh.” Dib put his hands back to his sides. “Neat. ...So what’s the plan?”

“Well, you see, this… _Giant Terrible Whatsit_ is on a dead-set course for Planet Earth. It will destroy it, which was supposed to be _MY JOB! MINE! YOU HEAR ME?_ ” Zim shouted at the asteroid. The asteroid did not react, as it lacked sentience. Zim dug his fingers into the control panel and growled in defeat. 

“Okay, that’s nice, but how do we stop it?” 

“YOU DOUBT ZIM’S CAPABILITIES?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“Hmm…” Zim pondered. “You should know that my INCREDIBLE brain is filled with many brilliant ideas, so it would be no problem for me to… Find out a solution to… Remove… This--- _thing,_ ” Zim trailed off, avoiding eye contact.

“Uh huh,” Dib nodded along, doubtful.

“I wanted to see what a tiny human brain such as yours could think of as a… An experiment! Yes!”

“Sure,” Dib continued nodding, even more dubiously doubtful.

“Can your weak human brain _even_ comprehend just a _single_ plausible solution?” Zim tested confidently.

“Well, I guess. Deflecting a potentially catastrophical earth-bound space rock was one of the topics I covered with Prof— My dad.” 

“‘De...flecting…?” Zim tested the word, disappointment tinging his voice.

“Well, yeah. If you shatter an asteroid of massive size, it would just scatter like shrapnel. The damage would still be catastrophic.”

“ _Uh,_ ” Zim pulled out something that looked like a digital clipboard and began scribbling something out, then writing furiously, turning slightly out of view.

“Not to mention, there would be the risk of the debris reforming in anywhere from about two to twenty hours,” Dib continued, looking around as he spoke. 

“Hmmmm, _HMMM,_ ” Zim wrote frantically, occasionally shooting a gaze at Dib to make sure he wasn’t looking. 

“Come to think of it, shouldn’t the world governments be doing something al—”

“NOTES,” Zim blurted out as Dib started turning his head in his direction.

“Wha—”

“Just---taking notes, for the EXPERIMENT,” Zim shook his fist, which was clenched around the stylus. 

“Right, so do you know if the world governments are taking action?” Dib crossed his arms.

“I highly doubt your _puny world leaders_ could do anything about this,” Zim stated. 

“Well, you would be surprised. NASA has developed several methods in altering the trajectory of any large earth-bound space-object,” Dib found himself smiling. While he detested the work given by both his school and his father, astronomy was the one subject he felt most passionate about. 

“And have any of these… _methods…_ Worked before?” Zim eyed him suspiciously.

“Well, I suppose we’ve used them a couple times in more minor cases, but trust me, there’s science involved. Our theories are pretty solid,” Dib assured. Zim squinted at him. Dib looked out towards Earth once more. “I’m just surprised, I guess. I thought maybe once something like this threatened our very existence, there would be more panic.”

“Your people are stupid, Dib-worm.”

“I mean, maybe some sirens would have been nice? You know, as a warning? Man, I can’t believe I missed something like this; huge, and _in plain sight_ in the middle of the sky. I mean, even _you_ noticed,” Dib mocked without looking in Zim’s direction.

“ _You_ thought it was the _sun,_ ” Zim retaliated.

“Yeah, but---look, I was tired, okay? I haven’t slept in days. I put my boots on the wrong feet this morning and had to lace them before I realized something was wrong,” Dib defended, though he realized by admitting such a foolish mistake that he had already lost. 

“Ah, sleep, yet another one of your human weaknesses,” Zim closed his eyes and leaned back in his seat with hands behind his head, and laid his feet across the dashboard of the ship.

“Irkens don’t sleep?” Dib inquired. 

“ _Irkens_ don’t require a few hours of _being unconscious_ in order to maintain _common sense,_ ” Zim explained.

“Yeah, I’m sure you would know a lot about common sense,” Dib mumbled.

“It’s possible but impractical. We have the ability to sleep, but we don’t have to. It’s more of a thing of luxury,” Zim continued, eyes still closed. 

“Huh,” Dib responded. He looked down at the blue-green-brown giant before him. “Maybe we should go down there.”

“ _Back_ to your _doomed planet?_ ” Zim opened one eye to glare at him condescendingly. 

“I mean, yeah. Maybe we can check on how planet defenses are going and make sure they know what they’re doing, if they’re as _incompetent_ as you think they are,” Dib explained. Zim pondered this and nodded wildly.

“And then maybe _WE_ CAN DESTROY EARTH! Maybe before the asteroid even gets there!” 

“But I don’t _wanna_ destroy the Earth.”

“You don't? Oh.” Zim seemed a little disappointed. “Well, then at least this stupid.. Rock... won’t steal my mission’s inevitable victory. _INEVITABLE,_ ” Zim raised his fist again to accompany his unnecessary shout. “Okay let’s go.” With that, Zim thrust the controls and head towards the NASA space station on Earth. Dib felt his stomach rise with anticipation, as the shuttles upon the dusty ground grew closer into view.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hoLY SHIT i've been learning SO MUCH ABOUT SPACE and cool science stuff in general, just for this dumb story and I LOVE IT. Also lookat all that dialogue. wow. sure is somethin. Hope you're enjoying so far!


	3. HERE is the plan.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gay space boiz go the place of nasa for negotiation

“What do you _mean,_ ‘evaluate my credentials’??” Zim roared at the speaker outside of a large metal door. It resembled the kind of intercom you would see at a Burger Lord drive thru, complete with a low-quality video feed of some black-haired teen with a fancy looking headset.

“We saw you park your shuttle without even requesting clearance,” the teen condescended with his arms crossed low on his chest. He had several different kinds of piercings and wore unbuttoned flannel over a T-shirt that read SPACE RULEZ with the NASA logo beneath it. “ _Everyone_ knows that you should call in before landing, _and_ to land in the _appropriate landing zone._ Did you even park in your designated landing zone? Did you even do that? _Pal?_ ” 

“We don’t have time for this!” Zim threw his arms in exasperation.

“There’s _always_ enough time to be a considerate shuttle driver. Isn’t that Jerardo’s reserved parking spot? Where is he going to park after he gets back from his mission in the cold void of space? I don’t even recognize your shuttle type. Is it a customized STS-215 Discovery class? That’s a ghastly shade of purple. It hurts to look directly at it. Why are your thrusters so small?” 

“ _Your_ thrusters are small!” Zim retaliated pathetically, his anger visibly escalating with every jab at his beloved voot cruiser. Dib, noticing Zim’s rage starting to boil over, gently picked him up and placed him a little further away from the intercom. Zim didn’t react, aside from hissing through his teeth at the screen and crossing his arms tightly. Dib moved closer to the camera to make sure his face could be seen.

“Hey, uh, can you please just let us talk to whoever’s in charge? The world is in danger and well, I want to know if you guys have it all under control,” Dib pleaded awkwardly. The teen scoffed loudly, blowing part of his long bangs in all different directions.

“The _world?_ Give me a break. How do I know you aren’t just some space geeks who just want to get in our private facilities? No way. I don’t have to call anyone for some nerdy kid and his angry green friend. Plus! Plus!! You’re both total jerkwads. You have treated me like dirt and I just met you. Do you even know who I am? How many exclusive albums I own? Do you know how much schooling I did to get here? SO much more than you, obviously. And I can prove it, I have---Hey stop what are you doing? Let me GO---” the teen’s arm appeared to be seized as a new stranger appeared to be forcibly guiding him out of the room muttering things like ‘come on,’ ‘out you go,’ and ‘off-limits to interns.’

There was a muffled sound of a door slamming, then about ten seconds of some distant shuffling while the camera focused in on the empty chair. Zim and Dib exchanged glances before a broad-shouldered man with sunglasses sat in front of the camera. 

“Sorry about that,” the man in a black suit smiled with his hands folded neatly on top of the desk. “The name’s Egant, Agent Egant. Welcome to NASA space station, what can I do you for?”

“The world is in danger!” Dib pleaded urgently. “Uh, Sir.” 

“Ohoho, slow down, aren’t you Membrane’s kid with the big head?”

“I—” Dib stopped himself from retaliating on his last comment. “Yes, yes I am,” Dib adjusted his glasses, trying his best to appear confident. 

“What an honor. You know if you’re interested, once you’re head of the Membrane Industries, NASA would love to partner with you,” Agent Egant offered. 

“Well, I guess, but---WAIT! That’s not why I’m here; the world is in _terrible danger!_ ” Dib pleaded.

“I understand your concern, Membrane kid,” the man adjusted his sunglasses before folding his hands neatly on his desk again.

“Dib,” Dib corrected.

“Dib—but rest assured, myself and the NASA team have it all under control,” Egant continued. _‘Dib?’ Really? The genius invented contemporary time travel and limitless energy and that’s the best he could come up with?'_ he muttered to himself.

“Wow! That’s a relief. It’s good to know we’re in good hands,” Dib wildly gestured. Zim grimaced at Dib’s faux overenthusiasm.

“Yep! That’s us! We’re the _best_ hands. Hey, how would you and your friend like a look around?” Egant offered. 

“ _Would_ I?” Dib beamed.

“Yeah! A mind like yours is always welcome. Here, I’ll be right down there to release the pressure locks and let you guys in.” At this, Dib beamed down at Zim, whose bitter expression had not changed. Not more than ten seconds later did the air-locked door release with a hiss and reveal the man who was previously on the screen. 

“Good afternoon, kids! Why don’t you step inside?” Egant led the pair inside. The building was dim in contrast to the blindingly hot light outside. It was a wonder why he kept his sunglasses on, even as they walked down a set of dusky narrow hallways toward a large metal door.

♠♠♠♠♥♠♠♠♠

“You’re _building_ a shuttle? Right _now??”_ Dib burst out. Zim crossed his arms impatiently.

“Of course, what else would we use?” Egant placed his hands behind his back as they walked, giving a close-lipped professional smile to no one in particular as they moved closer to the unfinished ship. ‘Enormous’ would not begin to cover the size of the room they stood in. Its ridged steel walls curved over them with large fluorescent lights tethered into the supports. It was as if a gigantic pipe had been pushed on its side and buried halfway in the dirt. Sunlight beamed down from the large sturdy windows fit into the ceiling onto the stout metal skeleton of a shuttle-in-progress.

“No, but— that’s not my point! I mean just look! You have a _finished_ shuttle sitting _right over there!!_ Why not use that instead of making a whole new one from scratch??” Dib pointed to a polished space vehicle sitting not too far from where they stood. 

“Oh, that? That’s our new Vestia model prototype. Yup, pride and joy of the NASA place.” Egant pressed his cheek onto its shiny exterior affectionately. “Our latest piece of technological advancement, designed with comfort and efficient space travel in mind,” he continued, removing all but his palm from contact with the spacecraft.

“Okaaaaay, but that doesn’t answer my question,” Dib replied. “You have other ships you could use, right?”

“Unfortunately, other than our beautiful Vestia here and our current project, all shuttles are either deployed, broken, or simply not strong enough to deter that thing from its course.”

“But Vestia… Is?” Dib tested. Egant pinched his nose in disgust.

“Look, kid. Even if it were strong enough, there’s no way we’re going to launch our best ship just to be destroyed by some giant useless space rock,” Egant condescended. 

“But if you don’t do something, the _whole world_ will be destroyed!!” Dib pleaded. 

“Look kid, it’s business. We received a lot of funding from big corporations like Mr. Cleansly to get this project up and running. If the world doesn’t get destroyed, just think how much money we’ll owe! Not to mention how much more we would need to start the project over again,” Egant lectured.

“But—!” 

“Besides, just look at it; sleek design, thick enforced internal skeleton, soft padded interior area, deep metallic red industrial paint job, the most powerful engines and booster rockets you will ever see—”

“AAAHHHA!!!!!!” Dib screamed, dramatically pointing in accusation. Zim jumped back away from Dib, looking a little unnerved, but continued to keep his mouth shut. Egant showed Dib his palms in makeshift surrender.

“What did---what did I say??”

“With such powerful engines paired with the ship’s sturdy exterior, Vestia could knock the solid manifestation of planetary doom out of orbit without a problem!” 

“The engines? You must have misheard me,” Agent Egant bluffed, visibly sweating. “B-besides, remember what I said about how much money we would owe? How it’s our best ship?”

“If it’s the best ship then it would have the best chance of deflecting the thing that could literally wipe out the human race! Please! You have to believe me!” 

“I do believe you, Deb Membrane, but I don’t think you’re old enough to understand the situation. You’re a smart kid. In fact, I would be interested in having you as my intern this summer after this whole thing is taken care of,” Egant pulled a business card of one of his suit’s lapels and handed it to Dib, who wore a face of malcontent and betrayal. “We get hundreds of internship applications every month, but I’ll make sure to get in a good word for you.” Egant gave Dib a wink as he removed his sunglasses and wiped them clean with a little “Mr. Cleansly Lensly Cleaner” cloth. Light from the ceiling windows shined on the sunglasses lenses, which for some indiscernible reason, appeared to be totally opaque. “Feel free to refer to me by my first name, Agent. It shows we know each other well enough to refer to each other on a first-name basis, looks good on applications.” 

“Wait, your first name is Agent?” Dib inquired, holding the business card with both hands after reading through it. 

“That is correct, Deborah,” Egant straightened his back.

“So, would that make you Agent Agent Egant?” Dib asked.

“No. What? Huh?” Egant looked genuinely shocked and confused. A long tangible silence rose between them. The sound of metal working tools bellowed through the building. The giant meteor continued its fiery plummet to earth, with an audible sizzle perhaps only heard by passing birds or horrified pilots. Somewhere in the world, a balloon loudly deflates. Dib swore he could hear the sound of Zim scratching his butt through his leggings reverberate through the metallic corridor. 

“I think we should go,” Dib surrendered indignantly, turning to leave, dragging Zim by the wrist.

“Remember what I said about being the ‘best hands!’ We’re working with Earth’s best interest in mind!” Egant shouted at Dib as he briskly walked towards the door. 

“Yeah, right. ‘Don’t even care about the earth; no one ever listens to me,” Dib mumbled. Zim turned back towards Egant and shot a poisonous glare in his direction, sticking out his tongue as far as it could go, and baring his teeth in a silent hiss. He then wrenched his wrist away from Dib to cross his arms.

“‘The most _powerful engines_ and booster rockets you will ever see _ee_ eee,” Zim mocked, as soon as they were in the hallway leading out the way they came. “Your earth technology is garbage even at its best. Even _my_ ship would have more than enough power to push that stupid imposing rock out of orbit.” Zim’s face brightened with something akin to anger as he felt a single hand on his shoulder. “WHAT is the meaning of this unsolicited contact?? SPEAK NOW, Earth thing!” Zim jumped away from Dib’s hand, pointing a threatening finger. Dib simply stared at him, with an expression of something akin to surprise, silently urging Zim to think about what he just said.

“That’s a pretty good idea, actually,” Dib complimented. 

“Of course it is! All my ideas are ingenious,” Zim bragged. “Which idea specifically?” 

Zim stared at Dib, awaiting a response that only came in the form of a knowing smile. Zim looked around, as though maybe the answer were written on the wall somewhere. He scratched around the base of one his antennae under his wig just before his face contorted with the weighty realization of what Dib was suggesting. 

“Oh,” Zim muttered, looking a little taken aback. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY shit I am so sorry this has taken so long but like,,, the last three months have effectively kicked me in the ass and I'm just starting to get my shit together  
> From breaking my arm, to the bitter end of a long term relationship, to losing my wallet (and by extent my bus pass), to getting way behind in my classes, to getting food poisoning TWICE, and MORE. Things are starting to clear up now at least, so I took the time to finally finish this chapter. I hope it was worth the wait. Thank you all for reading ~

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by a dream that my friend had. I've been trying not to stress too much about this story and just focus on having fun just writing it. All in all, I tried (am trying) to keep true to the zany humor of the show, or at least, not totally alienate (ha) the readers by how my writing style might vary from the show's. I haven't written a multi-chapter anything in literally years. I hope you enjoy!


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